


Lathbora Viran

by DaedricManatees



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Children, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mumquisitor, Other, older inquisitor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 10:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7840831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaedricManatees/pseuds/DaedricManatees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tanwen Lavellan, mother of two turned saviour of the world, must now navigate through politics, wars, and inexplicable occurrences after accidentally activating an ancient elven orb. Parenting two young children was hard enough - now she had to mother entire nations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lathbora Viran

**Author's Note:**

> An idea I've had for a while that I'm finally editing and continuing to write. Because I'm finally forcing myself to stick with a fic. Hope you enjoy it ^_^

_Chapter 1: Swallowed by the Dawn_

 

Tanwen slowly opened her sleepy eyes to the dawning sky. A sprinkling of stars hovered still, trying their best to not be outshone by the rising sun. The warmth of her children's dormant bodies pressing against her on either side warded away the early morning chill. Legs curled towards their chests, hands balled into fists under their chins, mouths hanging open and snoring softly—they slept like bears in wintertime. Tanwen drew out the peaceful morning snuggle as long as she could before very carefully extricating herself from the sleeping roll. Placing two feather-light kisses on her son and daughter's heads, she rose and made her way towards the Keeper's aravel. 

 

The elves of her clan were rising and going about their daily duties, murmuring quiet greetings to Tanwen as they bustled about the camp. She smiled, feeling strangely out of place when she was not walking about with them and doing her part. Today, her part in keeping the clan thriving was going to be wholly different. Today, she was leaving for the Frostback Mountains, to begin her trek to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. To attend the Conclave between the mages, templars and chantry, and to report back whatever transpired, was her task. And though the idea of infiltrating a temple filled with angry, nervous humans was not something Tanwen would normally agree to, when her Keeper asked her, she would accept it.

 

Tanwen reached Keeper Istimaethorial's aravel, softly asking to enter.

 

"Come in, Tanwen," the Dalish woman answered, as Tanwen stepped inside. The Keeper was standing with her back to her, one hand cupping her chin and the other resting on her hip as she examined a page of an elvish book the hunters had discovered days ago. She turned, smiling, and brushed her long, braided, charcoal-coloured hair over one shoulder.

 

"I'm sorry for taking you away from Maloren and Nethani, but with Daniliara sick and Uhuran injured, we are tight on abled clan-mates who would be able to do this. And you are one of the three I would trust to complete this mission."

 

Tanwen nodded, her hands clasped behind her back, “I understand, Keeper.”

 

Istimaethorial smiled sadly, returning to her table. She picked up a small map, unrolled it, and handed it to Tanwen.

 

"There is a group of mages meeting here," she pointed to a marked spot below the Planasene Forest, "from the Cumberland Circle. We met one of them before, Catherine, you remember? She agreed to vouch for you as a bodyguard. Now, the clan will be travelling to Wycome, and if all goes well, we'll be there in around ten days—we will meet you there. If, somehow, you are there before us, simply wait and carve a Halla into a tree on the main path so we know of your presence. Now go see Lenir for your armour, and say your goodbyes to your children, _lethallan_. We will keep them busy enough to not let them dwell on your absence."

 

The two elves shared a long parting embrace.

 

“Thank you, Keeper. I will be back with all the information I can gather. May the Dread Wolf never catch your scent."

 

She left the Keeper's aravel, map in hand, heading towards the master craftsman to gather her supplies. The clan was bustling with activity now, as her fellows packed everything up in preparation for their next journey. She passed a frantic Nathla, mumbling angrily to herself as she rounded up the children for their duties. Tanwen chuckled at her friend’s expense, but a sad hand clenched around her heart as she thought of the time she must spend away from her own. She steeled herself, rationalising the situation. Her children were the clan’s children. They were perfectly fine.

 

"Tani, you're here to prepare?" Lenir, their clan’s grey-haired craftsman asked.

 

"I am. It's all ready, I hope?" Tanwen chuckled, earning a snort from the elder. He retrieved a muddy brown pack from his aravel's stand and dropped it in her hands.

 

"Of course _, Da'len_. And the armour is also ready, before you ask."

 

Placing the pack gently on the ground, Tanwen regarded the human styled armour with complete indifference. They had bought it from a friendly travelling merchant four days ago for a cheap price, and the cost plainly mirrored its appearance. The metal shoulder and arm guards were made of poorly tempered iron, and the leather was thin and overworked. She would also have to layer up underneath to stay warm in the mountains. With help from Lenir, she attached the foreign armour on top of her regular clothing, pulling the belt snug against her elven waist.

 

"Perfect. It fits the human look; uncaring and dumb," Lenir said, picking up the pack and handing it to her again, " _Dareth Shiral, Da'len_."

 

"Thank you, _hahren. Dareth Shiral_." She smiled, bowing her head. Tanwen left Lenir to the rest of his packing, padding through the grass in her new boots towards her children.

 

" _Mamae!_ "

 

Tanwen was attacked by her son, Nethani, squeezing her middle in a tight hug. Tanwen laughed, encircling her arms around his head and pulling him nearer. Kneeling down to be at his height, she placed her hands on either side of his face.

 

" _Ir abelas, da'mi_. I'm sorry to leave you and your sister. I will miss you two so much!"

 

"It’s ok _mamae_ , we understand. How long will you be?" He asked, his grey eyes just a little more glassy than usual. Tanwen brushed her fingers through his red curls, placing a kiss on his forehead.

 

"Hopefully no longer than twelve days. Perhaps shorter, depending on how the meeting goes, _da'mi_."

 

Nethani frowned, shifting from one foot to the other.

 

“Don’t worry, you have the whole clan, your whole family. I will be back before you know it

 

Tanwen frowned, her heart heavy. This would be the first time she would part from them, and it was not going to be easy for any of them. Another flash of red curls caught her eye from above Nethani’s head, and she spotted her youngest, Maloren, splitting off from a group of children to run towards the two. Both of her children had inherited their father’s impossibly bright red hair, Tanwen’s own wheat-blonde hair had had nearly no effect on those wild curls.

               

                “You’ll be safe, _mamae_?” her daughter asked, clutching onto both her brother and her mother’s arms.

               

                “Yes, _da’len._ Of course. And stay out of trouble!” She chuckled, grinning at the two’s widening smiles.

 

“I will be back sooner than you know it. Be strong,” She playfully nudged them, as they returned to their morose expressions. Maloren looked up at her with her wide, pale green eyes filling with moisture, it took all of Tanwen’s strength not to completely fall apart.

 

"Loves, I'm so sorry I have to leave, I don't want to either. But it's important for our people, and I must follow the Keeper's wishes. Sometimes, the most difficult tasks are the most important ones."

 

“I…understand." Maloren said, in a voice so soft it could soothe even the most frightened halla. Tanwen smiled at her daughter, tucking her hair away from her face and behind her small pointed ears.

 

"I will miss you both terribly," she squeezed them again, "But I have to go now, else I’ll miss my chance. I love you both so much, and I will be back sooner than you think!"

 

Hand in hand they walked to the edge of the camp where they were joined by _hahren_ Flinnen and the Keeper. Tanwen turned around, kneeling before her children one last time, hugging and kissing them and wishing them goodbye. She clasped arms with the _hahren_ , and then the Keeper.

 

" _Dareth shiral_ , Tanwen. We will see you in Wycome, lethallan."

 

Tanwen nodded, smiling, then turned away and walked deeper into the Planasene Forest. Mere seconds later, Tanwen heard Maloren calling after her.

 

" _Mamae_!" Tanwen looked back to see her youngest waving the hand not clutching _hahren_ Flinnen's hand, “ _Dareth shiral!_ ” 

 

Grinning, Tanwen waved back, chuckling to herself. Nethani began waving too, although a little less frantically than his sister. Turning her back to them for the final time, she breathed deeply, in tune with the breeze rustling through the trees. Disappearing into the dark green, re-adjusting her pack to better sit on her shoulders, sending a prayer to Sylaise for her family’s safety, Tanwen ventured towards the intricacies and stupidities of human politics.

 

 

_“In heart’s drumming I heard footsteps thund’ring_

_Shield-brothers and spear-sisters distant raised_

_Blade to shackle-bearer, valiant of spirit_

_Blazing like star-shine, to battle they charged.”_

_\- Excerpt from the Canticle of Andraste_

 

 

The Conclave was an over-filled pot of boiling water just seconds from spewing its scalding contents everywhere. While a great many mages and Templars appeared relatively calm, there were also those who were clearly agitated, nearly at one another’s throats every few minutes. Tanwen kept a safe distance from any sort of conflict (or any sort of mage or Templar, for that matter), instead choosing to follow a group of humans and Qunari dressed in regular, non-descript armour—more hired hands to be the neutral guards of the meeting. As of this moment, the Divine had called for a moment of respite, for everyone to hopefully take the moment to cool down before re-joining the conclave. Tanwen waited near the group of mercenaries inside the main meeting room, where pews had been pushed away and replaced with one gigantic oval table. A simple yet large chair had been positioned at the head—the Divine’s seat—and the rest of the table was surrounded by regular, sturdy stairs for the mages and Templars. Most of the Templars, save for a few, angry-looking crowds, had gone into the room opposite. The mages had remained, and the more radical ones burned holes into the Templars with their glares. Robed members of the human Chantry convened only a few long strides away from Tanwen, and the sight of them talking in hushed tones made Tanwen’s skin crawl. She was sweating under her armour even in the cold climate, the fear of being discovered near the forefront of her mind. She prayed the powder rubbed thoroughly into her face would keep her _vallaslin_ concealed.

 

Perhaps the mages would be less likely to call her out than the Templars or Chantry folk, those who would steal children and kill elves who had wandered a little too far. Heat rose through her body at the thought of any of these people placing a hand on her clan, on her children.

 

Two mages near her, a raven-haired elf and a blonde human, whispered to each other while sneaking glances at Tanwen. The Dalish breathed in deeply, keeping calm even though her nerves were sparking. When the elven mage stole another glance at Tanwen, she offered her a smile. The mage's eyes widened, startled, but to her credit she smiled back. Tanwen couldn’t blame them if they were suspicious of a guard so near them—they had no reason to place any trust in a Chantry-hired hand.

 

A flash of silver metal caught Tanwen's attention out of the corner of her eye, the light bouncing off of armour too lustrous to be that of a Templar’s. Her neck snapping in the direction of the hallway, eyes narrowing, she just caught sight of the famous crest carved into their glinting armour as they rushed passed the doorway. Her hands unconsciously curled into tight fists. Why were there Grey Wardens at the private meeting between the Divine and her misbehaving _shemlin_? They made sure to avoid any interference with the outside world’s politics. They dealt in death, and in death alone.

 

Tanwen was off down the hallway as quick as she could without raising suspicion. There were three—three Grey Wardens speeding down the corridor, stopping in front of two large brown doors that—unless Tanwen was hearing things—were rattling? It took two of them to shove the doors open, but only a second for Tanwen's heart to drop to the pit of her stomach.

Tendrils of black wisps snuck out of the doorway, curling onto the corridor floor. A voice so ancient and so deep that it sounded as old as the mountains spoke ahead of the three Wardens. Fear fell like a bucket of water over Tanwen—though she could not see the speaker, all it took was their voice to completely and utterly unnerve her. The hair on the back of her neck stood on its end, her ears twitched, but she was willed towards the door regardless of the fear and trepidation coursing through her veins. Reaching the door after the Wardens, shooting a hand out to stop it from shutting, sucking in a nervous breath—a woman’s shriek tore across the room. Looking in, Tanwen nearly shrieked as well.

An elderly woman dressed in Chantry robes was suspended by a cage of magical energies pouring out from Grey Warden mages below in front of a being from nightmares. It was almost as tall as two men, its arms extended way past where they should have, and the long, thin claws looked as if they could shred wood as easily as paper. Skin was pulled taut over exposed organs that beat dully behind grimy bones and charred flesh, large red crystals grew out the creature’s face in all directions, and black feathers draped themselves over metallic shoulders. _Demon._

 

“Someone, help me!”

 

Something clicked in Tanwen’s brain. The Divine. That was the _Divine_.

 

Tanwen threw open the door. In retrospect, it may have seemed like a bad idea. But Tanwen’s mind was completely occupied by the horrifying demon so close to her. Every non-mage whirled towards her, weapons drawn and ready. The mages were entranced in their spell, unable to notice any disturbance. The demon turned its focus directly on her, its eyes filled with molten rage.

 

“We have an intruder,” its voice echoed and reverberated throughout the room. Pointing a long nail directly at her, it spoke again; “Slay the elf.”

 

“Run, save yourself!” The Chantry mother screamed with all the effort left in her, swinging an arm out of the magical cage and into the creature’s outstretched hand. An orb flew from his talons and rolled straight towards Tanwen at incredible speed. Her left hand shot forward, thinking this orb was a key to this demon’s plan, and snatched up the object. It burned like Andruil's rage immediately upon touching her skin, glowing an unnaturally bright green. Tanwen dropped to her knees, succumbing to the pain while her ears were bombarded with shouts and screams from all around her. The room, the people, the creature—they all blurred away from her vision. Pain, searing pain ripped through her arm to the rest of her body. Amidst the deafening chaos, ancient whispers slinked into her ears just before she collapsed.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
